


Waiting

by judes



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:07:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judes/pseuds/judes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoughts whilst waiting at a railway station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

I was early. The rendezvous wasn’t for another twenty minutes so I took the time to re-familiarise myself with the environs of London Waterloo Rail Station. It was vastly improved from the last time I’d travelled through it. No doubt the advent of the Eurostar and the investment involved in that continental link had spilled over into a major clean up of the original Victorian station.

Checking the time on one of the many station clocks against my latest “birthday” present, I made my way to the designated meeting point and took up a relaxed stance under the information boards opposite the Costa coffee shop. 

 

2.29

I love to watch people. Even after 5,000 years I find them endlessly fascinating and a rail terminus, like an airport, seems to attract the most eclectic mix possible. Every age, every colour, every sex, all the divergent glory that makes up humankind.

The station concourse was busy. Lots of family groups and I remembered Duncan commenting earlier in the week that it was half term. Not having children – at least, not in this lifetime – I tended to lose track of such familial concerns as school holidays. Somehow, though, Duncan always knew.

I watched a small black toddler chasing a pigeon. Considered vermin by many, he didn’t seem to care as he flapped his arms enthusiastically not catching the bird. His mother hovered close by, allowing him his fun but close enough to step in if necessary.

 

2.47

I was being watched. I just knew it. There was no immediate threat, no brush of immortal presence, but I knew someone’s eyes were on me. I glanced around casually and spotted him almost immediately. To one side of the Paperchase entrance was a tall Chinese man. Casually but elegantly dressed, his slitted black eyes were very definitely giving me the once over. His mouth twitched in a slight smile as he realised I’d noticed him.

As he started to move towards me, I gave a slight shake of my head and indicated the gold Celtic band on my left hand. He slowed, grinned, shrugged and moved off in the opposite direction.

 

3.06

I glanced around, searching for the familiar broad shoulders and dark head. No one even with a passing resemblance.

The station announcer’s continued their calls to passengers: train departures, arrivals, changes of platform, delays.

Hundreds of people strode purposefully towards their myriad destinations whilst I stood and waited. Oh there were other people waiting but all too often there would be glad cries of recognition and greeting, handshakes and hugs, and then they too would move on.

 

3.10

I tried Duncan’s mobile. It was off.

 

3.15

Wondering if perhaps I had mistaken the rendezvous point, I took a walk round the concourse, down to The Sock Shop at one end and the AMT coffee bar at the other. I checked out places to ear, places to sit, places to stand, information points. No Duncan. I returned to my original waiting point.

 

3.24

Still people moved past me, concentrating on their own lives, their petty concerns. It had been so straightforward when we’d separated after breakfast at the hotel. Duncan had to see his solicitor to sort out the final stages of a property transaction. I had some papers to collect from the British Museum. Simple really. We would go our separate ways and meet up at the station with plenty of time to catch the Eurostar to Paris.

 

3.27

The stone of dread situated in the pit of my stomach seemed to be growing with every passing second. There were so many reasons why Duncan was late but the ones that worried me most were the ones meaning that he wouldn’t show at all.

Although we’d been keeping a lower profile in recent years, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was still a magnet for quickening hungry hunters and London was a major transit point. I was convinced, however, that the link we’d shared since Bordeaux would let me know if he’d met his final end. But there were so many variations leading up to a final death. Serious injury leading to discovery by mortals; kidnapping; torture; my mind could devise more scenarios than my heart could bear.

The stone now felt like a boulder.

 

3.35

I tried Joe’s mobile. Joe was still in Paris but I knew he’d had someone watching us during our public activities. But there was only his voicemail. Frustrated I snapped the mobile closed and returned it to the inside pocket of my overcoat. The movement shifted the weight of my sword, remind me again of all the trouble Duncan could be in.

 

3.37

Feeling the frustration and worry gnawing at me, I took another walk around the concourse. I was striding out, scattering mortals, all my concentration on trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for Duncan’s non-appearance. Despite appearances to the contrary, I wasn’t by nature a patient man. It was an acquired skill; one I could feel myself losing as concern welled up once more.

 

3.45

Back at my post. By now we should have been through the emigration formalities and on the train. Undoubtedly our luggage was already on board. It had been sent on from the hotel. 

Someone brushed past me and the breeze from their passage sent a shiver down my spine. I clenched my hands, digging my fingers into my palms to prevent the shiver becoming a full blown body shake.

 

3.48 

I tried Duncan’s mobile again. Still off. Joe’s. Still on voicemail.

 

3.51

There it was. Just at the very edge of my perception. The brush of immortal presence. I tensed. 

And then he was there, striding towards me, the grace of a panther in a god of a man.

He stopped in front of me. I wanted to throw my arms around him but knew that Duncan was still uncomfortable with overt displays of the relationship between us.

But he had no such qualms. He gathered me up in a huge bear hug: the warmth seeping into my bones to melt away the fear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Damn papers weren’t ready on time. And my phone needs re-charging.”

He stepped back from the embrace and grinned apologetically. “Forgive me?”

“Why? Were you late?”

He laughed. “Let’s go catch that train.”

 

 

Finis


End file.
